


Marisuthiel Meets the Author of Doom!

by Worffan101



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, Mary Sue Parody, Merry Christmas Caek!, Other, Pure Crack, don't read if you like Rhaegar, on crack, the author was grouchy while writing this, with a side of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyanna Stark was a beautiful, fragile Princess waiting for her handsome shining blonde-haired bad-boy Prince Rhaegar to rescue her...until she regained her senses and remembered that running off with the married heir to the throne would cause a small war, and why had she been attracted to this creep, anyway?  Or, George R. R. Martin kills a Mary Sue, and there was much rejoicing.  Originally posted as a Christmas gift for my buddies on AH.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marisuthiel Meets the Author of Doom!

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I really don't think that shipping a teenager with the man who kidnapped her, locked her in a tower, and raped her is a good idea. Also because a lot of people miss the point of Rhaegar, and how he's a Deconstruction of the "bad-boy" archetype.

"Oh Rhaegar, my handsome, melancholy, shining prince...oh save me, Rhaegar! You're my only hope!" Lyanna Stark felt a single perfect tear roll down her sexy, alabaster cheek, her beautiful grey eyes staring longingly out into the sunset, yearning for her One True Love, Rhaegar Targaryen. Her wicked stepfather (he could not be her REAL father, to do such horrid things to her!) had locked her here, in the tallest spire of the tallest tower of Winterfell, in the single room at the pinnacle of the spire with nothing but her maid, Marisuthiel, and had refused to let Lyanna to marry her one True Love, just because Lyanna had refused to marry that smelly oaf Robert Baratheon! Oh, how Lyanna wept for her love, her heart aching for the sexy embrace of her Rhaegar...  
  
Lyanna turned from the window, raising her skirts demurely as she walked over to the opulent cushions where she would let Marisuthiel braid her luscious brown locks. She wore a luxurious holiday dress that was based on the one she had worn at the tournament where she had first seen her True Love, but had a pink satin cape that was edged with white fox fur. The fur was studded with silver filigree alternating with brilliant-cut aquamarines, forming beautiful wolves frolicking around the forest of fur. The cape was held closed with a pink scallop shell with additional embedded aquamarines. The jewel motif repeated in a cascade down the center front of her bodice beneath her low neckline with even more jewels sprinkled over her seashell pink overdress and dusty rose pink underdress. Her puffed sleeves, also dusty rose, each had three slashes that revealed soft pink fabric underneath, with small seashells nestled like buttons at the top of the slits and jewels resting on the bottom. There were three rosettes cascading down the the lower sleeve that ended at the wrist with a flourish of pearl, and her slim, creamy throat was shown off with a high collar of lavender satin that formed a hot cleavage window, with dusty rose scrollwork echoing the waves of the ocean. Her tiara was of the finest and purest gold, embedded with priceless emeralds and rubies that formed exquisite and elegant dragons rampant on the golden base as the slender crown rested gently on Lyanna's flowing hair, not budging an inch as Lyanna flounced elegantly down onto the cushions, her dress still flawless because...because it looked so hot.  
  
Marisuthiel hummed most beautifully as she stroked Lyanna's hair, and the beautiful princess wept a single perfect tear down her marble skin as she thought of her handsome, melancholy, shining Prince. Then the door opened quietly, and Lyanna turned to see Rhaegar slipping in, his skin shining in the light, and in his hand was a harp of purest gold, and Marisuthiel released Lyanna as she rose joyfully and threw herself into Rhaegar's waiting arms, somehow not knocking the harp to the ground as she did so.  
  
"Oh Rhaegar, my True Love! I have been pining away for you here in this dreadful tower!"  
  
"Come with me, my sweet love," responded Rhaegar sexily as he tossed his perfect hair elegantly over his shoulder. "For I have come to spirit you away to Dorne, where I will make sweet and tender love to you, and you will be my sweet Princess, and will bear me my prophesied child!"  
  
Lyanna frowned. Wait. Why was she going off to Dorne with the married Prince some half-dozen years her senior in defiance of her betrothal? Something wasn't right here. She pushed herself back, turning back to the cushions, where that new maid was...  
  
Marisuthiel rose. Her pencil-thin waist, atop broad hips and a taut rear end, seemed unable to support the weight of her swollen, heaving teats, carefully sequestered in a tight, low-cut silk dress. Her eyes were violet, and cat-like, with slit pupils that made Lyanna's gorge rise in horror. The woman's hair shifted constantly between various beautiful colors, her skin glinting oddly--by the Old Gods, it was marble! The woman's skin was literally marble! Her lips were deep red, and swollen with horrible, lumpy bee stings...gods! Marisuthiel bared her elegant white teeth, her elfin pointed ears twitching as she stalked towards Lyanna.  
  
_You will go with him,_ Lyanna heard as the creature hissed inside her head. _I have written it! IT IS YOUR FATE!_  
  
Lyanna tried to shake her head...but the monster's powers sapped her will...  
  
"Come, Princess Lyanna," said Rhaegar again, setting down his harp and smiling in a roguish, sexy way. Lyanna shook her head, trying to shake off the monster's influence.  
  
"But...my betrothal...my family...I cannot dishonor them...my people need me!"  
  
"You will come with me whether you want to or not!" snapped Rhaegar sexily, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her in a hot bad-boy fashion--  
  
The shaking snapped Lyanna out of the trance and brought her to one moment of perfect clarity. Thinking quickly, she nodded slowly, pretending to fall back into that weak and lethargic trance. "Of course...my true love...Just...please, may I tell you something before you carry me off to wed me and make sweet love to me?" She tugged surreptitiously at her dress, trying to get the cursed thing's neckline to droop a little more...  
  
"Yes, my dear?" asked Rhaegar, leaning in with that creepy pimp smile again. Lyanna just managed to direct him so that their mouths were at each other's ears.  
  
"Fuck you, you dishonorable slutty little cocksucking man-whore!" And Lyanna Stark kneed Rhaegar Targaryen in the groin with all of her strength.  
  
Rhaegar screamed like a strangled pig, stumbling backwards from the momentarily deafened Lyanna and clutching at his crotch in incredible agony. Marisuthiel howled with rage; Lyanna turned, seeing the monster rise again, her elegant blood-red fingernails extending into claws, her impossible proportions shifting to reveal themselves as a bizarre insectoid exoskeleton, not flesh at all...  
  
The door burst off its hinges in fragments as Rhaegar stumbled towards Lyanna from her other side, and Robert Baratheon, fully armored but for his helmet and bearing his mighty hammer, strode wrathfully into the tower room (which Lyanna now noted internally hadn't existed before today), a plump old man with a long beard, wearing pure white robes and a shining halo, wielded a great quill pen at the young lord's side. "GET THE SEVEN HELLS AWAY FROM MY BETROTHED, YOU SISTERFUCKING BASTARD TARGARYEN SON OF A WHORE!" Robert roared, and his hammer slammed into Rhaegar like the fist of an angry god. Rhaegar flew sideways and crashed against a wall, falling into an ungainly heap on the floor. Marisuthiel shrieked with rage.  
  
_HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT MY FANFIC, LESSER CREATURES!_ she roared, rounding on the old man as Lyanna's brother entered with a scrawny, brown-haired young man carrying a strange tablet with a metal clasp and a load of papers at his side.  
  
"BEGONE, FOUL BEAST!" bellowed the old man, "FOR I AM GEORGE R. R. MARTIN, THE AUTHOR AND SUPREME GOD OF THIS UNIVERSE! YOUR VILE HERESY WILL BE EXPUNGED FROM MY WONDERFUL, GRIMDARK DYSTOPIA OF TRAGICALLY DECONSTRUCTED FANTASY TROPES!"  
  
_You have no power over me!_ screeched Marisuthiel, but her voice sounded uncertain as Ned passed Lyanna a spare sword and drew his own at her side. _I am a Suethor and Insertion Sue of the First Order! I will have my OTP, and you cannot stop me, old man. You haven't even finished the next book yet!_  
  
That struck a nerve. Marisuthiel shrieked and cowered as the old man's halo blazed gloriously. "YOU FOOL! I HAVE SUPREME POWER OVER THIS UNIVERSE, INSIGNIFICANT CREATURE! Your so-called One True Pairing is unrealistic, to boot! There's no way that a real medieval noble lady would run away with an emo Edward Cullen expy for supposed love; indeed, I in my infinite wisdom wrote Rhaegar and Lyanna as a Deconstruction of _Twilight_ and such books on purpose! Now BEGONE FROM MY REALM! BY THE POWER OF GREYSKULL, I COMMAND YOU TO LEAVE!"  
  
Marisuthiel howled and doubled over, but she raised her head again and hissed. _This is not over, Author! I WILL have my Rhaegar x Lyanna fic!_ She lunged for Lyanna, claws outstretched...  
  
And impaled herself on Lyanna's swiftly-thrust sword.  
  
Marisuthiel screamed in mixed rage, pain, and denial, her body shriveling like a grape left out in the sun as her being collapsed around the sword, her essence being sucked back into the void where her heart should have been; for Mary Sues have neither heart nor soul. The roar rose, a hot, dry wind springing up and lashing through the room, the howl of the Sue rising to eclipse all else...  
  
And then it was gone, and all stumbled back with a sigh of relief, except for Rhaegar, who was bleeding out on the floor.  
  
"Well," managed the brown-haired young man with the papers, "That was something. Thank you for responding to my call, Lord Martin, sir."  
  
"It was nothing, boy," rumbled the old man dismissively, but not without a touch of kindness. "While I may not like your weak, noblebright Reconstructed versions of My work, I am pleased that you gain such enjoyment from My work while still taking its lessons to heart. Unlike that damned Sue. Now...well, this mess is all yours, boy. Call it a Christmas gift from Me to you."  
  
"I'm an atheist, sir. Well, sort of."  
  
"A generic holiday gift, then, since I haven't finished the next book yet. And, give this to the Caekcorps for Me, will you please?" The old man handed a wrapped package to the young man, who took it carefully but eagerly. "It is the tale of this day, inscribed on the finest of computer fonts. Truly, a tale for the ages!"  
  
"Wow, thank you, sir! I will deliver it, you can count on me, sir!"  
  
"Fare thee well, then!" boomed the old man, and he waved his quill, cutting two holes in the world, one beneath his feet and the other beneath the boy's. Seconds later, they vanished, and it was as if they had never been.  
  
"So..." managed Ned, sheathing his sword and scratching his head. "Do we just put this all down to drink and have done with?"  
  
"I suppose," shrugged Robert practically. The tower room vanished, as did the ridiculous furnishings and Lyanna's dress, which was replaced with a much simpler and more practical blue one, as the surroundings were replaced by a richly-furnished room in Whent colors and a view of Harrenhall's surroundings. Rhaegar's body and the blood vanished through a plot hole as the three watched.  
  
"So...what do we do now?" asked Ned.  
  
Lyanna looked at Robert, who nodded, and then looked back at Ned. "We get stinking drunk until we forget this ever happened. Are you coming?"  
  
Ned looked at his hands, and at the room, then back at Lyanna. "By all the gods, yes I am. I _need_ a godsdamned drink."


End file.
